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Alan
| Open Poetry #34 |
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Alan |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan 
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How light glistens on the water Wooden houses with paper walls small rock gardens and slate gray roofs Grocery stores Their open stalls Mama Sans at local bars Small white dogs and cobbled roads Paddy fields Koto tunes Summer hills The autumn moon... I will miss you when I’m dead |
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| © Copyright 2004 John Pawlik - All Rights Reserved | |||
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
hmmm. The images are lovely and quite at odds with the closing, so I confess I can't quite claim to understand this on an intellectual level, but at the same time, something on an emotional level sort of nodded at the apparent irony. (not even sure if irony is the right word) Perhaps you could enlighten me a bit regarding this one? I do enjoy your explanations, even when they are beyond me.  |
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GG Member Elite
since 2002-12-03
Posts 3532Lost in thought |
Think I'll agree with Ser on this one. It definitely pinched a nerve emotionally... left with an underserved untimely stealing of what 'should have been.' Yet confused by what the real meaning, or inspiration, might have veen. Guess I'm not always required to know. Even confused, I like this poem. Always, Alyssa He was a man of sorrows |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan |
serenity blaze/ Alyssa, This particular thing is a response to Alan Booth as I met and walked with him in his “Looking for the Lost” (ISBN: 1568361483). To quote one of the reader reviewers at Amazon: “Looking for the Lost is an oddity. A book that I remember few details of, yet I remember with great vividness that I was moved by a intangible sadness that was always just over the next horizon of his journeys. Alan Booth was a writer of invincible good humor. Too much so to speak of his own impending death. . . But the alert reader is constantly aware of an impending passing of life, seemingly inseparable from the passing of beauty in this country.” Until the end he never speaks of his illness, (a cancer that took him at 48 which he eventually alludes to), yet in and between the lines there is a sense of leave taking. It’s a very quiet, almost ineffable, experience yet one which I, at least, through re-reading have felt the urge to more than once. In the poem “Silence” Edgar Lee Masters asks: “For the depths, Of what use is language?” Alan seems to have known that to attempt to speak directly is to then use words as can only, at best, touch and more often distract and/or detract from and thereby diminish, if not deny, the experience of those depths. So instead you walk with him and within his words feel his being , his affection for life, and his goodbye. If my thing causes some interest, then I’m pleased. John P.S. http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1495.html |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
love that ending! yes! |
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Drauntz Member Elite
since 2007-03-16
Posts 2905Los Angeles California |
nice.**** |
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